Here's a start! please contribute with short stories and poems!
As I stare out the window, I wonder how I can escape.
They said that it was dangerous out there, and that this tower was the only thing separating me from them.
I don't care anymore.
Honestly, I don't care about anything anymore.
There once was a time when I was young, and happy.
If they really cared about me, then they wouldn't have trapped me in this tower.
It was my home, they said.
It is a dungeon, I said.
They slammed the door.
12 years, it has been.
I am in hell.
They never give me any food.
When I was weak, and starving, I thought that I would just die.
That would be nice, I thought.
But the day never came.
I cannot die in this tower.
Suddenly, a thought comes into my head.
I could end my suffering.
It would be quick.
It would be painless.
It would be an end to all of this.
I open the window, and stick my head out, the wind rushing in my ears.
I look down.
I cannot even see the ground.
That is good. I might even pass out before I hit the ground.
This is it.
I crawl out, onto the ledge below the window.
And I finally wake up, in a warm, safe, bed.
In my house.
My real house.
and I sigh; for it had all just been a dream.